


Appendix C: What to Expect When the Pilot Leaves the Nest

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Goodbyes, M/M, Martin and the students, Moving Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin's getting paid and getting married. He's moving on to a new phase of his life and that means moving out of Parkside Terrace. With all of his things packed and ready to move, Martin says goodbye to the third generation of students that he's shared the house with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appendix C: What to Expect When the Pilot Leaves the Nest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Moving out](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/4885.html?thread=7943701#cmt7943701) prompt on the meme.

The day had actually come.

There were many times during his residence at Parkside Terrace that Martin thought this day would never come but it had, practically snuck up on him in fact, and Martin was climbing the stairs to the attic for the last time. He was leaving, his things were packed and he was moving, in more ways than one. 

Martin was moving out of the attic and on with his life.

For good reason too. Martin wasn’t leaving because he’d been evicted due to lack of rent or change of landlord, fears that had occasionally kept him up at night over the years. Martin was leaving because, for the first time since he moved in, he could actually afford to move out. Through an incredible twist of fate, MJN had actually started to turn a profit over the last six months and, once she’d paid to reattach all the bits of GERTI that had fallen off over the years, Carolyn had started to pay Martin a regular salary. It wasn’t much, it was still less than the last captain had been paid, but to a man who’d been living off toast and pasta for years, it seemed like a fortune; a fortune that enabled him to stop doing removals with his van and move out of the shared house.

Even more incredible than MJN’s newfound prosperity and the slowly growing balance in his bank account was where Martin was moving to. Martin was moving to a small, one bedroom flat where space had been made on cluttered bookshelves for his collection of flight manuals. It had been difficult for Nate to sort through his books to find ones that he could move or restack or, to his pain, give away but, as he assured Martin multiple times after asking the pilot to move in with him, if Nate had to choose between Martin and literature, he’d always choose Martin. It was a hard concept for Martin to wrap his head around, being someone’s first choice, but Nate’s unwavering admiration and the simple band on Martin’s left hand helped ground the pilot in the fantasy that’d become his reality.

The man in question was standing on the far side of the small attic room when Martin opened the door. Nate had his back to Martin; he was standing in front of the wall where Martin’s bed had been, his neck bent like he was looking down at something in his hands. Nate turned his head at the sound of Martin’s footsteps crossing the short width of the room. He met Martin in the middle and they both glanced around at the empty space.

“I think that’s everything,” Martin said with a small nod.

“Except for these, they were still tacked to the wall. I thought you would want them.”

Nate handed Martin three pictures that had been stuck to the wall above Martin’s bed. He’d had the oldest one for a while, a picture of Carolyn, Douglas, Arthur, and himself congratulating each other over their successful escape from Douz that had been snapped by one of the Panda Charter stewards. The newest one was of him and Nate, taken by the writer himself as he stole a kiss from a sleepy-eyed Martin. 

The third one had been taken in the kitchen of the shared house; it showed Isabelle’s birthday from a year ago. Isabelle was seated at the table behind a large pile of unfrosted cupcakes that Tommy and Lily had made her in lieu of a cake. The bakers sat at either end of the table, Lily laughing at something Isabelle had said and Tommy holding the bowl of frosting out at arm’s length. Martin was there too, wedged between the twins who had pulled him down from the attic, refusing, as they always did, to take any excuse from him to not join in on their activities; Logan was laughing with the women while Lucas fought Tommy over the frosting.

Martin laughed as he remembered the horrible alcoholic concoctions the twins had worked up that day and the clean up they required the next morning.

“Thanks,” he chuckled, tucking the photos into his back pocket. “Now that’s everything.”

Nate slipped his arms around Martin’s waist, pulling the pilot’s body flush with his. 

“Well then, if that’s everything, what do you say we go home to _our_ flat?” he asked. “I think you’ll be very impressed to see that I cleared off another shelf for your flight manuals.”

“You gave away more books?”

Nate’s eyes shifted from side to side before he muttered, “Don’t look under my bed.”

“ _Our_ bed,” Martin corrected.

“Yes,” Nate grinned, sliding a hand into Martin’s red curls, “ _our_ bed.”

Nate leaned in to give Martin a quick peck but Martin pressed forward, taking the writer’s face in his hands, and proceeded to kiss him in the thorough and detail-oriented way in which Martin did everything. Nate drew him in tighter, making no complaint about Martin’s advance. The quiet of the empty attic made it easy for Martin to lose himself in the touch, the play of Nate’s tongue with his, so that he almost missed the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Almost. 

Martin’s mind may have barely noticed the rhythm of feet ascending the stairs but it was impossible to miss the commentary that came from the open door.

“Oh!”

“No snogging on moving day.”

“There’s impressionable young adults living here.”

“Do that on your own time.”

“Or get a room.”

Martin turned in Nate’s embrace to see all five of his housemates assembled in the doorway. Lucas and Logan were just inside the room, standing in front of the door with their arms crossed over their chests, wearing identical looks of disapproval. Tommy stood beside them, leaning against the door jamb. The two women hovered on the tiny landing just beyond the door; Lily’s face had flushed to a light pink at inadvertently interrupting the show of affection whereas Isabelle was smiling despite her friendly scolding.

“This is my room,” Martin said, using his best authoritative tone.

“Not anymore,” Tommy reminded him. “All of your stuff is loaded in your van, you paid your last share of the rent; once you leave us your keys, you’ll be officially moved out of Parkside Terrace.”

“Leaving us without a ‘real’ grown up in the house,” Isabelle added.

Tommy looked back at her over his shoulder. “I suppose whoever’s the oldest can be the ‘grown up’ in the house.”

“Which would be me,” Lucas said smugly.

“By fifty-five seconds,” Logan mumbled.

Isabelle sounded almost pained as she groaned at the thought. She shook her head as she entered the room, pulling Martin away from Nate.

“That’s it then,” she said firmly. “You can’t leave, Martin, you simply can’t. You can’t leave us here, living in a house where _Lucas_ is the grown up.” Isabelle let out a breath of laughter as she threw her arms around his neck. “Even though we both know you’re going to,” she whispered beside his ear.

Martin nodded, closing his arms around Isabelle as he stepped into the hug. She squeezed tighter; Martin could feel the deep breath she took before she spoke again.

“I’m so happy for you,” she said, still speaking so only he could hear her. “You’ve always been there for us, no matter how stupid or trivial or silly, and you deserve this but... I’m going to miss you.”

“I... I’m going to miss you too, Isabelle.”

Martin was surprised by the emotion he saw when Isabelle pulled back from the hug, as were Tommy and the twins judging by the curious expressions on their faces as they tried to peer into the quiet moment. Isabelle usually chose to show her favor in subtle ways like the extra cup of tea that was made without asking or the shirts that came out of Martin’s laundry darned when they had gone in with tears. There were very few people who could soften the woman Martin had learned early on not to argue with and he was touched to see that he was one of them.

“Come on then,” Isabelle said, brightening to her usual confident demeanor. She took Martin’s hand and led him to the stairs. “We’ve got some things for you before you go.”

Martin followed Isabelle down the stairs to the second floor, Lily and Tommy trailing along a few steps behind them. Nate started for the stairs but was cut off at the door by Lucas and Logan. The twins stood side by side, blocking his exit, with their arms crossed and stern expressions fixed to their faces.

“Yes?” Nate asked.

“Martin is a good man,” said Logan.

“A great man,” Lucas clarified, “and a great mate.”

“An excellent mate, almost like a brother.”

“Far better than our rubbish excuse for an older brother.”

“Which means we would hate-”

“Loathe.”

“We would loathe the thought of anyone treating him as anything less than the excellent mate that he is.”

“Yes, I know,” Nate sighed, sounding a little exasperated. “We go over this _every_ time I come over here. I would never do anything to hurt Martin. I love him. He knows that I love him, I asked him to marry me, I want to share my home and my life with him; what do I have to do to prove to you two that he means more to me than anything else in the world?”

Logan took a few steps forward. “See, Nate, that’s the thing,” he said, shaking his head as he put a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “You asked him to move in with you.”

“And?”

Lucas approached Nate, mirroring his brother’s pose. “That means you won’t be coming over here anymore.”

“Where we can see you.”

“And ensure that you’re treating him in the way he deserves to be treated.”

“So we really only get one more chance to impress on you our feelings about this situation.”

“We’ll make it simple, so it’s easy to remember. Treat him well,” said Lucas.

“Or we’ll kill you,” Logan finished.

The twins flashed Nate matching, unsettling grins before they released his shoulders and turned to exit the room. 

Once they were out of earshot, Nate let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly carrying tension in his muscles. He wasn’t scared of the twins and he certainly wasn’t scared of their threats. Nate was a grown man in a solid relationship that didn’t have to be validated by a pair of students. He had absolutely nothing to fear from the two six foot tall, broad shouldered, rugby playing young men.

Just the same, Nate waited until he was sure Lucas and Logan had reached the ground floor before making his way towards the stairs and closing the door behind him.

In the living room, the students were gathered around Martin. Only the twins looked over when Nate came down the stairs; Nate gave the group a wide berth and went to stand against the end of the couch near the front door, far from the double scrutiny of Lucas and Logan.

“We bought this for your birthday,” Isabelle explained, handing Martin an Airfix model set, “but since you won’t be around the house for your birthday, we thought we’d give it to you now.”

Martin smiled as he ran his hand over the box, ‘The Dambusters 617 Squadron RAF’ printed in large letters under the picture of the Avro Lancaster bomber.

“Chaps, you didn’t have to-”

“That’s the right one, isn’t it?” Tommy asked. “Like in that film you love?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “It’s perfect.”

“Told you so,” Tommy smirked at Isabelle.

Isabelle rolled her eyes and turned to Lily, canting her head in Martin’s direction. Lily smiled warmly at Martin and handed him the brown paper package that was clutched tightly in her hands.

“And this is for you, so you don’t forget us.”

“Which I said was impossible,” said Lucas.

“But we didn’t want to take that chance,” Logan chuckled.

Martin slipped his hand into the package and pulled out a brushed silver picture frame. The students had matted and framed the same picture of Isabelle’s birthday that had been tacked to Martin’s wall and each of them had written a short message on the off-white matte. Martin easily recognized Tommy’s left handed slant, Isabelle’s flowing cursive, Lily’s small print, and Lucas and Logan’s identical style that differed only in the way they crossed their T’s from years of notes left on the fridge and Christmas and birthday cards that continued to find their way to Martin despite his insisting that they didn’t have to bother.

Martin’s smile threatened to create an ache in his cheeks when he saw ‘The Third Generation of Parkside Terrace’ engraved in the lower right corner of the frame. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the three pictures from his wall, giving the matching picture to Lily. She looked surprised when she saw what it was and immediately tried to give it back to him.

“Martin, this is yours,” Lily insisted, holding out the photo. “You keep it.”

He pushed it back towards her with a shake of his head. “I don’t need both and this,” Martin held up the picture frame, “this is much better. Besides, Lucas is right; it’d be impossible for me to forget you lot.”

Martin was nearly knocked off his feet when all five twenty-somethings crashed into him in a chaotic, but loving, group hug that was the perfect representation of what living with his favorite generation had been like over the last three years. Lily and Isabelle, the ones who got Martin to open up despite his reservations, were tucked under each of his arms while Tommy, who had always been willing to guide Martin with advice, had a firm grasp around his middle. Lucas and Logan hung over Martin’s shoulders like the twin devils they were, responsible for repeatedly pulling Martin into things, promising that he’d have fun and, often, not resting until he did.

More than one complaint about not being able to breathe caused the students to slowly peel off of their resident pilot. Martin repackaged the picture frame and tucked both of his gifts under his arm.

“Thank you,” Martin said, looking over his housemates, “for everything.”

Isabelle hugged him again, holding him just as tight as she had in the attic but nowhere near as long.

“Take care of yourself, Martin, and don’t forget to invite us to your wedding; you know where we live,” Isabelle said with a grin.

Lily stepped up to hug Martin and, to everyone’s surprise, gave him a quick peck on the cheek before she pulled away.

“Best of luck, Martin.” Lily’s gaze fell to the floor as she shuffled one of her feet and said softly, “I’ll miss having tea with you.”

“Me too,” Martin grinned. He returned the light kiss, making Lily’s face flush seemingly from the point where his lips had touched her cheek.

The twins sandwiched Martin between them in a full-bodied bear hug.

“It’s been brilliant, Martin,” said Logan.

“Bloody brilliant,” Lucas added.

Martin and Tommy stood square to each other, a grin pulling at the opposite corner of each man’s mouth. They extended both of their hands; Martin handed Tommy his keys with his left and they shook hands with their rights.

“It’s not going to be the same without you, Martin, but I wish you nothing but the best.”

“Take good care of them, Tommy.”

“Oi,” Lucas complained. “I’m the grown up now.”

“Did you really think we were going to let that happen?” Isabelle asked.

“Tommy makes more sense,” said Lily.

“You really are the worst man for the job,” Logan laughed.

“Martin?” Lucas asked, looking to the pilot for his support.

Martin held up his hands, surrendering to the rest of the students’ opinions. “Sorry, Lucas,” he apologized. “That sounds like a house issue and I’ve officially moved out of Parkside Terrace.”

The other students made no effort to muffle their laughter as Lucas sulked. “I didn’t want to be the bloody grown up anyway,” he grumbled.

Martin headed for the front door, stopping in front of Nate to hand the writer his gifts. He fished his van keys out of his pocket and gave them a habitual twirl around his finger; Martin noted the change in weight of the bundle of metal that he caught in his hand.

“Ready?” Nate asked.

Martin glanced around the living room, his gaze landing on the five most recent students he’d shared the house with. When he first moved in to Parkside Terrace, Martin never imagined that one day he might look back on his time spent there and miss it. The thought seemed absurd; Martin had spent years wishing he could be somewhere else, anywhere other than the drafty attic at the top of a shared house full of students where he was the only grown up. He thought he’d been miserable but, looking back on it now, even though there’d been bad days, Martin had to admit that most of the time he’d been happy. Not ‘blissfully happy with the love of your life in the moonlight’ happy but more like ‘Lily chatted with him over tea and biscuits’ happy or ‘the twins sat in with him to watch a film’ happy. 

He may have been moving on to something new and wonderful but he was moving away from something he’d enjoyed and Martin knew he would miss it.

“Ready,” Martin said with a small nod.

Nate touched a hand to Martin’s face and kissed him, despite the giggles and grunts of disapproval coming from the students; the assurance of Nate’s lips and the matching band on his hand that was cool against Martin’s cheek strengthened the smile on the pilot’s face.

After two more rounds of goodbyes, one at the front door and another on the porch, Martin and Nate got into his van and, once it started, they drove off down the street on their way to Nate’s flat. The students stood around to watch them go; when the van rounded the corner and turned out of sight, Lucas, Logan, and Isabelle went back into the house to go on with their days. Tommy turned to follow them but looked back at Lily, still staring out at the street with her arms wrapped loosely around herself.

“Lil?”

“I know he’s happy and I’m glad he’s happy but I just, I just wish...” Lily let out a long breath as she turned towards Tommy. “Couldn’t he have stayed until the end of term?”

“So we could all move out together?”

“So we wouldn’t have to be without him.” Lily took another look back at the street before relenting her post and walking over to Tommy, who put his arm around her. “I’m going to miss him, Tommy,” she sighed, dropping her head onto his shoulder.

“Me too, Lil,” he admitted, leading Lily into the house and giving her shoulder a squeeze. “We all will. It’s just going to take some getting used to, Parkside Terrace without its resident pilot ghost.”

Tommy began to laugh, a low, steady chuckle that shook his body and lit up his face.

“What?” Lily asked.

Tommy stepped away from Lily and kicked aside the thin rug that ran behind the couch, from the front door to just about the kitchen. He took three steps from the arm of the couch and put his heel down on the end of the second floorboard from the wall. It lifted easily; Tommy knelt, holding the floorboard up with his hand, and pulled out the plastic envelope from the space hidden beneath the floor.

“I guess we don’t need this anymore,” he chuckled, handing Lily the small stack of papers from the envelope.

Lily held the staple and binder clip bound document in her hands, skimming through the dog-eared pages of rules, notes, and stories all pertaining to Martin. She’d only seen the handbook, titled The Care and Feeding of Your Resident Pilot-Ghost, three times before. The first was the day she moved in; Lily had been made, by Isabelle and Tommy, to sit at the kitchen table and read the whole thing before adding her name to the list of signatures in the back, before the appendices. The second was the day Isabelle added the addendum to rule number ten after Martin regaled her with a very long and very technical story about how he landed a plane on one engine, in a crosswind. The third was the day the twins added their story, complete with pictures, of the goose that had found its way into Martin’s room to ‘Appendix A: Things That Go Bump in the Attic.’ For the sake of secrecy, the handbook didn’t come out much. Not that anyone needed it; no one ever needed a refresher on how to look out for Martin.

“What do you think we should do with it?” Tommy asked, peering over the top as Lily turned through the pages. “I suppose we could toss it or shred it-”

“I think we should keep it.”

“Keep it?”

“Yes,” Lily nodded. She flipped the pages back until the cover was facing up and held the handbook close to her chest. “Isn’t the most important rule that Martin never find out about the list?” Lily continued talking before Tommy had even begun to nod. “Then, isn’t the safest thing to do with it to keep it in the exact place where it’s been successfully hidden from him for almost ten years?”

Tommy studied Lily for a moment before a soft smile settled on his face.

“Yes,” he agreed, “that’s the safest thing to do with it. Will you put it back, Lil?”

“I’ll take care of it,” she assured him.

Tommy pulled Lily into a quick hug. He ensured that she had the floorboard propped up with her foot and then left to head up to his room.

Lily looked down at the handbook, opening it again to a random page. A smile started to sneak onto her face as she read rule number seventeen, which started with ‘Martin quite enjoys cooking.’ She had personal experience with that rule; Lily could remember everything about the first time Martin made her dinner from what they ate (beef stew with a side of fresh green beans) to the story he’d told while he cooked (how he and Douglas had created Christmas in the flight deck for Arthur and were rewarded with a second Christmas).

Lily turned to the back of the handbook and clipped the picture Martin had given her of all of them celebrating Isabelle’s birthday to the second to the last page, under ‘Appendix B: A Cheat Sheet to Captain Crieff.’ She put the papers back into the plastic envelope and tucked it away under the floorboard. Lily straightened the rug and took a moment to ensure nothing in the living room looked askew. The whole scene was entirely inconspicuous and no one would ever guess that there was something so important hidden beneath the floor.

Something known only to the past and current students of Parkside Terrace, with Lily, Isabelle, Tommy, Lucas, and Logan, the Third Generation, being the last to be entrusted with the care of the resident pilot ghost.

Even if Martin was gone, Lily liked knowing that the handbook would be there until the end of term; it made her feel better to know that there was a little piece of Martin Crieff still residing in Parkside Terrace.

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of the handbook isn't mine. It is a reference to the two great fills to the [Martin's students](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/3282.html?thread=3358674#cmt3358674) prompt on the meme:
> 
>   * [The Care and Feeding of Your Resident Ghost-Pilot](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/3282.html?thread=5325778#cmt5325778) by [alienstars2004](http://alienstars2004.livejournal.com/)
>   * [Rules for Martin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/391523) by [errantcomment](http://archiveofourown.org/users/errantcomment/) and [OxfordTweed](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OxfordTweed/pseuds/OxfordTweed)
> 

> 
> which I encourage you to read if you haven't yet as they're wonderful.


End file.
